


It Is What It Is

by deathbybellarke



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Hook-Up, Mild Smut, No Strings Attached, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 20:50:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3664473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathbybellarke/pseuds/deathbybellarke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But I ain't got no one sleeping with me//And you ain't got nowhere that you need to be//Maybe I love you//Maybe I'm just kind of bored//It is what it is//'till it ain't anymore</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Is What It Is

**Author's Note:**

> This one shot was inspired by "It Is What It Is" by Kacey Musgraves.

Clarke chewed on her thumb as she stared at his name in her contacts. It always began like this. Even though she knew she was going to call him, she always hesitated. But at the end of a long day, he was what she wanted to reach for the way some people wind down with a glass of wine.

 _You’re thinking too hard_ , she told herself. She pressed call and held the phone up to her ear. She paced back and forth in her kitchen, her feet growing cold against the tile floor.

“Hey, princess,” he answered like he always did.

She closed her eyes at the sound of the low gravel of Bellamy’s voice, and a smile crept onto her face. His voice was one of the things she liked most about him. She loved the tone of it when he whispered her name against her ear.

“Hey, Bell,” she said.

“Long day at the hospital?” he said.

“Something like that,” Clarke said, her voice much softer. She usually didn’t call him when she was upset, only when she was angry or stressed or relieved to be anywhere but the sterile halls of the hospital.

The truth was she’d lost a patient that day. It was the first time during her residency that someone had died, and she felt it was her fault. For her relationship with Bellamy to be solely about sex, they’d picked up on quite a few nuances of each other’s personality. So Bellamy could tell something was up.

“Are you okay, Clarke?”

This was something they _never_ asked each other. It was an unspoken rule. Small talk got in the way of other things. Actually, the only question they ever asked each other was variants of “do you want to come over?”

“Are you busy?” she said, blinking back the couple of tears that were welling up in her eyes.  

“I can be there in 15,” he said.

Once he hung up with Clarke, Bellamy rolled off the couch and put on his shoes. He grabbed his keys and headed straight for Clarke’s.

She’d sounded upset on the phone, and though they didn’t do much with emotions, he knew she didn’t need to be alone.

She answered the door, and a knot settled into the pit of his stomach. That had been happening lately, and he was doing his best to ignore it.

She was wearing an old college t-shirt he’d left at her place once. The way her hair fell down her shoulders was effortlessly beautiful, and Bellamy thought that was a perfect description of how she always looked. Clarke Griffin was a mystery to him in a lot of ways. He’d never spent a morning with her or watched her get ready for work. All he knew was end-of-the-day Clarke, dressed in t-shirts or scrubs with her hair just let out of a bun or ponytail.

“Do you want to talk about today?” he asked as she let him in.

“We don’t need to talk,” Clarke said.

Bellamy stared at her for a long moment, waiting to see if she would change her mind. When she didn’t and he wasn’t making a move, Clarke stepped forward to close the distance between them.

She kissed him, slower than normal, more gentle. Their encounters were typically heated, charged with everything they couldn’t say to anyone else. He hooked his hands under her knees and picked her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he walked them down the familiar path to her bedroom.

Their nights went like this. She worked late at the hospital, and she didn’t have time for a real relationship. Bellamy worked sporadic hours at the precinct and didn’t have time for one either.

When Octavia had set them up on a blind date that was clearly going nowhere, they came up with the current arrangement. They didn’t have time to get to know each other or dance around the awkwardness of first dates. So they skipped all of that and cut out the romance. It worked for them.

Bellamy sat Clarke down on her bed like he’d done plenty of times before. Clarke sat up and tugged off her t-shirt. She stood to unbutton Bellamy’s flannel shirt. His hands rested on her hips, and she felt comforted by the warmth of them, grounded by their calloused surface.

She pushed his shirt off his shoulders, and he shrugged it the rest of the way off. Clarke trailed her hands up his chest. She pressed a kiss to his collarbone and briefly thought of the night she kissed different places all over his body and gave him an anatomy lesson.

As she kissed his neck, she reached down to unbutton his jeans. They parted briefly to take care of the rest of their clothes.

This was a moment Clarke was always thankful for. She didn’t have to be sexy every second of getting undressed with him. She could clumsily pull off the sports bra she didn’t bother to change out of and shimmy out of the scrub bottoms she still had on from work.

Clarke lay back down on her bad and Bellamy crawled over her. He kissed her lips sweetly, and she sighed against his mouth. He moved to kiss her jawline and down her neck, peppering kisses down her stomach.

Clarke loved his mouth and everything it was capable of. She tangled her fingers in his dark curls as she came undone.

Everything about this time felt a little different, a little more real. From the way Bellamy would hold her gaze to the way he kissed her, it felt closer to making love than anything they’d done before.

It was what she needed, and she liked that he somehow knew that. She needed something to make her feel whole, and it almost frightened her that he was able to ease her pain so much. Or it would’ve frightened her if anything had been running through her mind but _oh my god_.

As they were both coming down from their high, Clarke rested her head on Bellamy’s chest. This, she never did. She picked up the rhythm of his heartbeat and started counting.

Bellamy realized after a few moments that Clarke had fallen asleep. She’d never fallen asleep before he’d left. He debated what to do, but then he reached for the lamp on the nightstand and turned it off. He never stayed at her place, and she never stayed at his. But he couldn’t rationalize leaving her alone.

He closed his eyes and drifted off, feeling totally comfortable with Clarke tucked against him. 

When the sun came shining through the blinds the following morning, Clarke swore she was still dreaming. There was no way Bellamy Blake was cradling her in his arms. There was no way his face looked that young as he slept, the quietest snore escaping his nose.

She smiled, choosing to go back to sleep instead of worrying what would happen when they were both awake.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Leave comments or kudos if you feel so inclined. We're deathbybellarke over on tumblr!


End file.
